


The Wretched Quest

by aliensohsnap



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Cardan hates human travel methods, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Hate to Love, Road Trips, Slow Burn, Spoilers for Book 2: The Wicked King, Will add characters as I go, adventures in the human world!, guys this will be SLOWWW burn, how the hell do i tag, i can't wait a year for QON, post the wicked king, post twk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-10 09:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17423678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliensohsnap/pseuds/aliensohsnap
Summary: After Jude's devastating exile from Elfhame, she attempts to settle into a more normal human life with Vivi and Oak, while still plotting her ever-further revenge. One night, a visit from a familiar smith sends her to the opposite corner of America to retrieve the one thing that can reclaim her power -- her crown. A particular king, however, wants to accompany her on this troublesome trip and make their all-too-complicated involvement even more so...Or...Jude and Cardan's cross-country adventure in the joyful human lands of the Northern U.S.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies... this is my first time ever writing and posting a fanfic, so I apologize if the pacing and prose reads exactly like that. 
> 
> Basically I can't stand the fact that we have to wait a whole other year for Queen of Nothing and I wanted some sweet, sweet bonding time with our two favorite rulers. Of course, I guess that can be done during late night Greyhound bus trips in the flatlands of America?
> 
> I'm hoping to make this a multi-chapter fic and a slow burn at that one, for all us poor fools who need some filler for our time... I hope you enjoy!

I stand in the aisle at Target, staring at racks of clothes marked with yellow clearance stickers, and wait for my sister to emerge again from the dressing rooms. She’s carried at least three separate armfuls of clothes back there. After the first two outfits, everything blends together into sequins and two-word catchphrases.

A little over three months have passed since that fateful day of my exile from Elfhame. Food still doesn’t taste as real, the air doesn’t quite fill my lungs, sleeps evades me into the early hours. I still can’t believe that it actually happened. Still can’t believe the look in my High King’s eyes before he joined in with the laughter of faeries around me.

Up until a month ago, it didn’t really hit me that I wasn’t returning home to Elfhame in a matter of days. Surely he couldn’t handle the inner workings of the kingdom himself. He’d need me, he’d pardon me and let me come home. Now the horrifying truth is starting to settle on me like a damp woolen blanket, that maybe the human world is truly meant to become my home.

The summons from my sister breaks me from my swirling thoughts. I watch as she steps out from one of the cream-colored doors and demonstrates the button down and slacks.

“What do you think?” She asks. “Is it professional enough?”

“Professional enough for what?” I respond. The look she gives me I’m sure is meant to be withering.

“I’ve been talking to you about the job interviews I’ve got this week. Have you been listening at all?”

I hadn’t. I frown at my sister as I realize I’ve drifted into futile thoughts, which happen far too often nowadays and usually while someone is speaking to me. Vivi clasps my hand and pulls me into the dressing room with her, slamming the little silver lock into place before whirling on me.

“Okay, Jude, sis, I really need you to start focusing on the here and now. The human world. It’s time to leave behind faerie world and start making your life here.”

I can tell she gearing up for a speech she’s given me a hundred times already. “I am here. I am adjusting. I have a job, don’t I? I’m giving this world the chance you keep asking for.”

“But you’re not. I know where your mind wanders to. I know that scheming face, Jude, and as much as I want you to rip that faerie asshole limb from limb, we kind of need your help here. And I don’t want a repeat of that last...incident.”

She’s gripped me by my upper arms, forcing me to stare into her eyes that she’s glamoured for the sake of humanity. For a moment, I’m desperate to see those cat slits and her furred ears as a single reminder of a past life in danger of being left behind. I know she wants me to avenge myself. She might even charge into the palace of Elfhame to raise hell herself, but we’ve fallen into hard times in this world.

Heather didn’t come back to Vivi. Only once she returned with a few of her friends to the apartment to collect the rest of her belongings and give Vivi the silent treatment. What I hadn’t realized then until Vivi grimly explained to me a few days later was that Heather had paid half of the rent when she lived with Vivi. Now it was an income that we no longer had. Turns out, you can’t pay rent with glamoured leaves when the landlord makes a final count of all his tenants. My new job working late shifts at a local coffee shop was a testament to our situation.

The human world has a fierce way of keeping you close. Once it finds a way to rip you from your dreams, it is loathe to let you dream again. It is always charging forward, always needing to feed off of you.

Three months since I’d last set foot in Elfhame, and it was too close to feeling like a dream.

The incident to which she refers was a reckless attempt to fly back to Elfhame and the palace. In my carelessness, once I had sighted the tall hill where I had once lived and ruled, I rushed towards the palace with sword in hand. I hadn’t noticed that one of countless balls was being held and guards were scattered as protection. Needless to say, I was chased relentlessly back to the human world by soldiers bearing Madoc’s colors. The hurt and shame kept me from repeating my mistake.

“I know it’s hard,” my sister continued, “and I want you to have your revenge. You know I do. You deserve to grind that twerp into garden soil, much as he needs to be ground.”

“But...” she pauses. I know she’s weighing the unfairness of our situation. Of my exile and humiliation. “I can’t keep making plots with you. Oak needs us. And it will still be a few years before he can go back. If he can go back.”

“He will. We’ll get him there,” I say. If I had thought the years until Oak could claim the throne had been distant in the faerie world, they stretched endlessly now. “And I will help you, Vivi.” I continue. “You know I’d never abandon you. Even to conquer… him.” It bothers me that I can’t even speak his name nowadays, but my sister smirks at me.

“We don’t have to forgive. And we certainly won’t forget. He’ll get a face full of righteous vengeance that hopefully I’m there to witness in full glory.” Her tone is mockingly serious, and I can’t help but smile at the thought of what a face full of righteous vengeance would look like.

Eventually, Vivi settles on a few outfits with my nodded approval. We head out with our bags into the parking lot. Under a shady tree sits a blue hatchback (as the seller called it and Vivi confirmed) that Vivi procured “anonymously.”

“We don’t know how to drive!” I had exclaimed upon seeing it parked outside the apartment. “What are we supposed to do with it?”

“Heather taught me how to drive a bit while we lived together. It’s not that bad,” she said when I gave her a grimace of disbelief. “I’ll teach you how to drive, too. We won’t always have ragwort horses, you know.”

“Sure. I guess we can live out of it when we can’t pay for the apartment, too.” I wasn’t feeling very generous as far as enthusiasm.

My sister shot me a glare and opened her mouth for another retort when Oak, having somehow escaped our notice, popped out of the backseat and screeched, “I love it!” And that was the final nail in that coffin.

Luckily, the drive from Target to our apartment was short. Oak was coming home from school and he liked meeting us at his bus stop across the street from the complex. I only had an hour and a half to change and drill swordplay with him before I began my night shift at the coffee shop. I usually helped to close the shop around 2am, when the last college student will drag themselves from one of the couches. It seemed easier than shifting to a more human schedule of working daylight hours and sleeping nights.

After Oak all but wolfed his after-school snack of goldfish crackers, we practice. He still thinks of the poses and the clacking of our wooden poles as a fun game. I don’t know how to make it as scary as Madoc did for my sister and I, without any hills to charge towards or the relentless bloodlust.

_We get power by taking it._

Too soon and I reluctantly change into my all black uniform. Oak and Vivi are puzzling over what looks like his latest math homework. Vivi watches me as I walk out the door. Her steady gaze feels like a reassurance: rent now, revenge later. And then I am through the door, evening air beginning to cool, and I walk.

Walking lets my mind whirl without check. Every person I pass becomes a potential enemy. _If they made a grab for my arm,_  I think, _this is how I would block._ Every once in a while, I do think of that boy I dropped at the mall so many months ago after he had grabbed me. How instinctual the movements had been. How dangerous. My ability to defend myself is my last stronghold of power.

I feel so much anger towards those who betrayed me the most. The ones I shouldn’t have need to defend myself against. The fury over the Ghost’s betrayal has not lessened over the time. Even the briefest glimpses of sandy-brown hair twists my guts into coils. I almost want to see him, to actually meet him again and make him beg for my mercy. But I also don’t know if I would hesitate at the sight of my once friend. I hope I would not.

I arrive soon at the shop, thankfully not too far from home that I’d need a bus or car. The warm notes of coffee and plucking of an acoustic guitar fill my senses as I step in.

Sam is there, my usual late night coworker who can’t be much older than nineteen. He gives me a nod and a quick smile when he sees me, then continues to ring up customers. I set to work organizing and clearing away dishes and wait for the night to fall.

Many pastries and hours later, the last customer stands to leave, packing up his laptop and cords and bustling out of the front door. Sam follows and sends him off with a cheerful “good night” before locking up.

I’m stacking coffee cups as if in a trance. Earlier, I had spotted a teen girl’s travel mug with _I Rule_ stamped on it, wreathed in a pink flower motif. I remember seeing the same phrase on a black mug carried in the hand of a slim faerie girl. A slim faerie girl who’d probably had her hands all over the High King, Cardan. _My king_ , I thought. _My Cardan_. Or so he was. Now I am thinking of the intensity of his gaze on me while being kissed and fondled by other girls, how he used to watch my every step in crossing a room. How he stared down at me that night in the private room behind the throne…

I don’t notice the precarious position of the coffee cups until their weight makes the whole stack tilt toward the floor. I rush to prop them up again by hand but one escapes off the top, surely tumbling to a porcelain doom on the wooden floor until Sam catches it in both hands.

“Maybe we’ll start another stack with this one,” he says, amused. I feel embarrassment heat my cheeks. I’ve already dropped a cup and a tray today, thinking too deeply of eyes the color of midnight.

Sam fixes me with an inquiring look, eyebrow raised slightly. “You doing okay, Jude? You don’t seem to be all”— he makes a waving gesture with his free hand towards me— “here. In the head, I mean.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not—I mean it’s just, y’know, one of those days.” I hate how flippant and stammering I sound. I wish I wasn’t here. Every excuse I give people for my far-off looks and general lack of interest is like a reminder of how powerless I am, and all the power I lost. I hate trying to justify my place here when I so clearly despise it. I used to whisper in the ears of kings.

“Uh huh.” He’s not convinced, as usual. But he never attempts to pry, for which I’m thankful. He turns toward the food warmer where a mug rests. He slides it towards me and I see that it bears an image of a goose wearing a wig of green onions. “Drink this. I made extra. Then be on your merry way home.” I lift the mug up and the toasted aroma of cinnamon and apples wafts around my cheeks. I mutter a quick thanks before drinking deeply.

“You need a lift home?” He’s watching me expectantly, standing so close that I can see little pieces of hair pulled loose from his ponytail.

“No,” I answer. “I’m fine. The walk is good for me.” I’m trying not to be irritated at his concern, or to tell him I’ve walked in far more dangerous places.

“If you say so,” he says, cautiously. “Don’t get kidnapped on your way home, okay? Text if you need me, you have my cell?”

I nod my head, lips tightened into a slight smile. Vivi insisted I get one of those pay-as-you-go phones, she calls them. For emergencies. “I will.”

The air is near frigid by the time I walk out, Sam waving to me from the window of his pickup as he drives by. I head off in the opposite direction towards home, sighing deeply at the calm and silence of the winter night. Sticking my right hand into my pocket, I feel a fuzzy scarf that’s been folded and tucked inside. I pull the red and blue striped cloth and see that it’s one of Oak’s. He had pressed this particular scarf into my face when he saw my red nose and watering eyes from a walk back in snow. I wrap it around my neck and breathe in his scent of crayons and dry leaves and “ocean” shampoo bought from the Dollar store. Indeed, by the time I reach the complex, tiny flurries are slowly settling on every surface.

In the beauty of it, the snowflakes lit by orange street lamps, and the warmth of the cider and Oak’s scarf, I didn’t want to hate the prospect of a human life. I could feel myself aching for the memories I should have had here, the life that was sacrificed. Even worse, each passing day spent with Oak and his school books and art supplies forces me to rethink the ruler I thought I was shaping. He was still so prone to innocent laughter and daydreams. He loved his dinosaur toys and multi-colored construction paper and his classmates who invited him to their birthday parties.

I was losing the image of a powerful High King who could meet power without mercy, the way I could. Or had, with my sword training and Court of Shadows, my absolute command over someone who should have remained my enemy, and had become something so much more. I had been anything but gentle.

I take my boots off in the front hall of the darkened apartment, mindful of my sleeping siblings. Grabbing a Cutie clémentine from the kitchen, I creep down the hallway before freezing at my door. I’m suddenly aware that there is someone very much awake and within my room.

My left hand instinctively goes to my waist, where I keep a short knife tucked into my waistband. Slowly, I ease the door open, wishing I could will my eyes to adjust better to the darkness. As I set one foot past the doorway, a lamp in the far corner opposite my bed flares to life. Immediately I crouch into an offense, knife pointed before me at the figure sitting on the edge of the bed. Then I recognize the wizened little faerie, who holds up one clawed hand before I can speak.

“My Lady Jude, Queen of Elfhame,” says Grimsen the Smith. “I seek an audience with you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW!!!! I'm so freaking happy by everyone's encouragement! It really is is motivating to see so much positive feedback (the first I've gotten on my writing like this)! I can't wait to keep writing this out for y'all!
> 
> So, I totally thought that Cardan would make his appearance in this chapter but NOPE... but he will definitely be in the next one, I guarantee!
> 
> Also this chapter came out a little earlier than I thought (thanks Cardan who just had to delay his entrance), although I'm not sure how often I will post. Not to worry! The updates shall not cease.
> 
> And furthermore, the end notes to each of my chapter totally fucked themselves up soooo... I guess no more of those?
> 
> Enjoy!

_Queen of Elfhame._

The shock at seeing the faerie smith in my room washes into a flood of relief.  After so many months of hoping for the chance that I wasn’t completely forgotten by the Folk, here he was, patiently waiting for me. And he had called me Queen.

I straighten out of my attack crouch and replace the knife into my waistband, minding to keep the handle still visible. I want to remind him that I didn’t learn how to trust the Folk in my childhood.

The old mannerisms of Court come back easily to me as I address him: “Well, I am certainly surprised to see you at all. You have my attention. Why have you come to me?” I take care not to let any tone of surprise escape through my voice. I’m pleased by how level the words flow from me.

Grimsen purses his lips, studying me for something I can’t begin to guess. He hops off the edge of my bed to stand in front of me, before bowing slightly. “Forgive me, Lady. I am not accustomed to performing honors before mortals.”

I’m suddenly aware of how staged this scene might be. I don’t want to give him any chance to gloat over the disgraced Queen, if that is his purpose. This time, my voice is commanding and cold as a steel blade. “Did you come here to prostrate yourself before me or do you have something worth my time?”

He rises from the bow but fails to hold back a sneer at my tone. “My Lady Queen, I do not come to jest or waste time. I find myself having far too little of time these days.” It hardly seems possible, but the lines of his aged face seem to grow deeper, as if every word drains the vitality from him. This is not the greedy-eyed Grimsen I saw at Court, carefully wording his pledges for a purpose I could not reveal.

“As it so happens,” he continues wearily, “I have the one thing that concerns your fate and the fate of Elfhame. I have the crown.”

It’s a struggle to keep the air in my lungs from bursting out of me. “Where is it?” I demand, taking a step closer to him. I have not forgotten how to intimidate in these past months. I want the truth without tricks from him.

He fumbles at my intensity. “It is not complete, nor is it nearby,” he says hastily. Both of his hands are raised as if to defend against me. “Nor is it strictly in my possession.”

Now I feel fury building within me. “Do not be cryptic with me, Grimsen. I know you were forging the crown for Balekin. Why would you not have it?” I consider for a moment. Despite my eagerness, I am not exactly partial to the thought of being sent into a trap. Any number of malicious fae could have wrested it from the smith, fae who would love the chance of sinking their teeth into me. I was good at making enemies.

“I trust the person who has it to finish it. Now that Balekin is dead, I cannot use his blood for the final rites.” He peers at me, as if he should be explaining this to a toddler. “It is a Blood Crown, after all. And with your… supposed ascendance… the magic of the crown calls for a different set of skills.”

Balekin’s stricken face rises from the depths of my memory. The sweat on my palms reminds me too much of the stickiness of his hot blood as I drove the knife through his neck. Distracted, I shove the memory down again. “I thought you could make any magical object,” I say. I see his jaw clench slightly.

“Oh, do not think to insult me, young Queen. Not when I am trying to guide you to what is rightfully yours.”

“Why should you want me to have the crown in the first place? You are bound by no oath to the Court. You care not for me, and perhaps even less for the High King.” I wish Nightfell were in my hand, its razor tip pointed under the chin of the smith.

His frame slackens, and for a moment I think I should offer him a seat before his legs give out underneath him. “I was in earnest, when I beseeched the king for the restoration of my position in court. My reputation was ruined, once. I picked the wrong side, once. I hope to put an end to my follies and the hunt for my blood.”

Thus explains his feeble countenance. He is being hunted for a crown he no longer possesses. Whatever hideaway he had tucked himself into to build the crown must have been decimated to turn him on the run. I wonder if the Court of Shadows pursue him, or Madoc’s forces. Perhaps all of them do.

“And there is the matter of the magic used in its conception,” he continues.

“The magic?”

He nods his head, shuffling his cloud of white hair. “It has taken a great deal of magic to weave another crown also tied to the land. The magic in Elfhame is… unreliable these days. The High King has certainly noticed, so he pursues me to any and every corner on land.” Grimsen looks up at me, fully into my eyes, and crosses the room until he is standing only a few inches from me. I think for a moment that he will grab me, and I shift backwards slightly.

“That is why I have sent away the crown to be finished at the hands of another. But it waits for you. I forged it for a rising monarch, and it knows there is a Queen, and it will bend to no other.”

I am deeply disturbed at his statement. I shake my head in puzzlement. “You speak of the crown as if it were a living thing.”

“Is not the crown of Mab the same? The enchantments I wove into both tell it upon whose head it should rest.”

_The crown waits for you._

A thousand thoughts swirl inside my head. I consider the possibility of his proposal being a trap, that Madoc’s army or the Undersea or even a fire-breathing dragon waits for me wherever Grimsen would send me. That perhaps the crown is not consuming magic from the land of Elfhame or calling for a Queen, but rather it is a carefully laid plot to dispose of me and expose Oak to countless dangers.

I stand to my full height before Grimsen so that he is forced to look up at my face. “Give me your oath that this is no plot, no plan, no clever trick to send me to some unknown doom or cause any risk to my family.” He cannot lie to me, but I want him sworn.

“You have my oath. Retrieve your crown, finish the Blood Rite, and restore peace to me and Elfhame.” From his scarlet cloak he pulls out a small scroll, tightly rolled and tied with a black ribbon. He passes it to me without explanation. Before I can question him further, he turns and leaps out of my window.

In his absence, I finally notice the coldness of my room. It seems more bare and colorless than it had before. I close the window, shaking from the cold air or the information, I can’t tell. I let out a deep sigh that seems too loud in the silence, and collapse in exhaustion onto my bed, the scroll gripped tightly in my hand.

*****

I wake late in the afternoon to a light rapping on my door. My groan of acknowledgement invites Vivi to peak inside at me. “Hey,” she says. “Are you gonna get up at all today? Oak will be home in maybe 15 minutes.”

I squint at my clock as if I don’t believe her. Coming to my senses, I feel a brief rush of panic when I can’t find the note. I find it crushed underneath me after sliding my hands around the bed frantically. “Yeah, I’ll be up in a minute,” I say to Vivi in a thinly veiled dismissive tone. She turns and leaves my bedroom door open, an obvious invitation to join the living and not crawl back into sleep.

I pull the ribbon off of the crumpled scroll and unfurl its onion paper. The handwriting on it is cramped and spindly, like beetle legs bundled together. To my frustration, the note does not possess the name of any obvious location.

_Lady Queen,_

_I hear you are as opposite to your twin as east to west. You will find me past_

_such a twinned city, by a sea deeper and colder than the Undersea Queen._

_Your crown waits by a tree that once cradled another world._

_-Danu_

“What the hell is this,” I groan. Leave it to the Fair Folk to make a challenge of desperation.

In the kitchen, I explain the note and Grimsen’s visit last night. She sits at the counter and peers at the note over a bowl of reheated pasta. Oak is home already and playing on the living room rug.

“Besides the fact that we had a creepy faerie here in this apartment last night,” she says, glancing at me reproachfully, “Where are you supposed to go? Is this place even in this country?”

“I don’t know,” I sigh. “I’m not very learned as far as human-lands geography.” Whoever Danu is, they certainly also knew how to unnerve me in only a few lines. I haven’t spoken to my twin, Taryn, since before I left Elfhame, and my feelings towards her are less than sisterly. The mention of Orlaugh, the Undersea Queen, makes me taste phantoms of seawater and bile.

“We aren’t going to learn about it sitting here, I guess,” says Vivi after she finishes her snack. She checks the time on her phone, then calls out to the front room: “Hey, Oak! Do you want to visit the library?”

The library is truly an upside to living in the human world. As soon as we enter the ground floor, the smells of ink and aged paper waft around us. Oak takes off towards the children’s books and begins to pull colorful hardbacks from every shelf. Vivi heads upstairs to find the computer lab, having far more experience with that sort of technology, and I set about searching for atlases.

Vivi and I discussed the lines on the way here and concluded that the phrases “twin city,” “east to west,” and “deeper and colder sea” were key. The tree was secondary to finding the city, so we decided not to concern ourselves with it for now. I haul a massive atlas of North America from a bottom shelf and heave it onto a nearby wooden table, mindful not to slam it and disturb the dusty gloom. I flip to the pages of the U.S. and begin scanning; I can only hope that the city is within this country. Quickly I find Portland, Maine on the east coast. Heeding the directions of the scroll, I begin to slide my finger across the map westward to the opposite coast.

I find my target sooner that I would think. There, on almost the same latitude, I find another Portland located in the state of Oregon.

“Ah, hell,” I say out loud. Someone down the aisle shushes me loudly. I gather up the atlas in my arms and take my findings to Vivi.

“That was easy,” she remarks. She rocks back in the hard chair to look at the map. Photos of unusual trees are displayed on her computer screen.

“Yeah, finding it on a map was,” I snap. “How am I supposed to get there?”

Vivi grins at me. “This is why man invented Google,” she says, gesturing to the computer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh... chapters 2, 3, and what will be the beginning of 4... I originally thought of those as one chapter...
> 
> So this fic will be longer than I thought, but I hope that doesn't put anyone off!
> 
> Also, their asses will be moving in the next chapter; this is the last necessary set-up/here's-the-sitch/talk-it-out chapter. I just can't resist some sass.
> 
> Enjoy!

After a half hour of thumbing through the guidebook I borrowed from the library and squinting at the tiny font, I set it aside onto my nightstand. Excitement bubbles through me despite my caution against traveling. Considering our short notice and our lack of money, Vivi and her skills with the computer found a bus company called “Greyhound” that seemed the most promising method of travel. More research flicking through their website had us finding a trip that lasted only three days. I broke in my new debit card immediately. 

The fact that I was actually going in a matter of days, that the crown was so close to being within my reach and yet still so far, had me restless and uneasy. I wish I was working at the cafe, with my thoughts occupied by coffee cups and chatter, instead of twisting with worry in bed on one of my nights off. I try to imagine holding my new crown in my hands, to see the colors of the twined metal branches shifting between silver and gold upon my head. 

Petty as it may seem, I also picture myself striding into Elfhame, past trembling guards and into the darkened tunnels of the palace. I’d march into the throne room and ignore the shocked faces of my twin sister Taryn, her husband Locke, and even my murderous father, Madoc. For the one whose attention I crave the most is sitting on the throne, or what will be my throne. I’d press my sword against his neck and watch the fear darken his eyes as I announce, “Hello, my king.”

I must have drifted off in my dreams, because I don’t notice the faerie slip into my room until she is literally sitting atop my chest. At first, I lash out with both hands blindly at the creature. She grabs my wrists, and I freeze in shock when the Bomb whispers furiously, “Jude, it’s me!”

For three months, I’ve waited for any sign from the Court of Shadows. Three months since I’ve last seen the only creature in Elfhame that I would consider anything close to a friend. I pull my wrists from her grasp and crush her into a hug against me.

“Well, I’m glad you aren’t too pissed off to see me,” says the Bomb. I’m almost happy enough to giggle at her words as I press my cheek into her white hair braids.

“I don’t suppose I will be in the same favor,” drawls an all-too-unwelcome voice from my doorway.

I open my eyes over the Bomb’s shoulder to see Cardan, the High King of Elfhame, my exiler and my husband, leaning against my door with crossed arms. He wears a black velvet cloak with a neckline trimmed in white fur that hides the rest of his outfit and makes him seem to shrink into the darkness. If he was attempting to hide from me, he would fail. I grab the travel book from my nightstand and launch it at him in one swift movement. With pleasure I notice my hours of archery practice have paid off as the book hits Cardan square in the forehead with a satisfying  _ thunk  _ and his head whips back _. _

He yelps and clutches his face with both hands. I move to shove the Bomb off of me and fling myself at Cardan, but she pushes me back down onto the bed by my shoulders.

“Peace, Jude,” she cautions. “We’ve come here with a purpose. Listen.” I see her glance at my fists clenched in the sheets. “And throw no more books at our High King.”

Cardan raises his head to scowl at me, his soft mouth twisted into a grimace and his dark eyes narrowed. Only I could have dared such an attack on him. I regret the action as soon as I see the welt on his forehead. Flinging books at him betrays far more personal hurts than I’d like to reveal at once, and I doubt that even in the mortal world I can get away with striking a Faerie king. Embarrassment at my outburst creeps into my cheeks.

“Well, speak then,” I say, pushing myself up to sit back against the headboard. 

“We know about Grimsen’s visit. We know what he wants for you,” explains the Bomb. She sits cross-legged on my coverlet while Cardan still stands on the opposite side of the room, rubbing his forehead with a long-fingered hand. The news of their knowledge shouldn’t surprise me; I myself am familiar with how efficient our spying tactics were. But I feel something akin to disappointment that they came for me so shortly after I have only just been given the news. 

“You knew he would come for me?” I ask. 

“We let him come to you,” snaps Cardan. I flinch at his correction. I made the mistake of underestimating his role in the Shadow Court. The king who thought himself as the spy, as the Roach would have put it. He was just as capable of scheming and spying as I was. Until he became better. 

“He disappeared the night that Balekin died, but since knowing his purpose, we thought it would be only a matter of time before he came to you. Snapdragon kept a good vigilance,” says the Bomb with a wink. My stomach is queasy at the mention of Balekin again, especially with Cardan glaring at me. The Bomb was far too euphemistic in her phrasing.

“So you know everything then,” I say. “Grimsen has offered me the crown. I intend to go after it.” My tone is dark and hopefully menacing. I look them both in the face, moving my gaze slowly from one to the other. “Does that mean you are here to stop me?” I ask. 

“On the contrary, Jude.” Cardan’s voice has lowered to a deadly purr. “You will have your crown, and I will accompany you on your quest to claim it.”

I don’t hold back my scoff. “No,” I nearly wheeze. Shaking my head I say, “If anyone should come with me, I’ll gladly take the Bomb.” I look at her for confirmation, but her gaze is steady on me as she answers.

“It was decided-”

“You will take me with you,” interrupts Cardan. He has taken a few steps from the door frame to stand in the center of the room. His cloak makes no sound when he moves. “This new crown is drawing on the power of Elfhame and its extant crown. It will need royal blood for its final Rite. Since I am so conveniently the High King of Faerie—” he mockingly gestures to himself— “it is prudent that I be there to complete it and witness the coronation of the new Queen.” The corner of his mouth lifts slightly as he watches me. He knows full well that I won’t resist throwing our little secret back in his face. So I do.

“Have you forgotten,  _ husband _ ,” I sneer, “that I already am the Queen of Elfhame?” Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Bomb grimace and roll her gaze onto my blank wall. Of course she would know; why wouldn’t Cardan tell his Court of Shadows?

“I would hope you haven’t forgotten the conditions of your exile,  _ wife _ . ‘Until and unless she is pardoned by the crown,’ yes? If you are not planning on begging me to rescind your exile…” He trails off, hesitating, as if he is actually waiting to see if I’ll take his proposal. I curl my lips at him. He continues: “Then I expect you to pursue your own crown with unleashed impunity.” 

I wish I could fire a thousand insults at him like burning arrows. He has grown into an arrogant High King. 

The Bomb pinches the bridge of her nose and groans in frustration. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to also pursue marriage counseling on your journey.” She raises her eyes to meet mine. “We can give you no more than two weeks to gain the crown and return to Elfhame. Preparations for the Winter Solstice,” she clarifies at the sight of my confusion. I plan to finish the trip in almost half that time, but two weeks is still too long for a king to abandon his domain.

“My Master of Revels has his hand and eye on every plan and decoration,” Cardan says. “The Undersea is blissfully tamed into silence, thanks to me, and we doubt that even Madoc will strike on this holiday. Not when Taryn is also aiding in the festivities.” I notice that while Cardan may sound exceptionally proud at not having to be overseer of undoubtedly tedious preparations, the chance at temporary escape is not what creases his brow. I remember the words he spoke, after pulling that boiling island from the depths of the sea.  _ As the High King, I must lead. But I must also be just.  _

“The preparations begin in just a few days. This will be your only window before irrevocable damage is done to Faerie,” the Bomb warns. She flashes a look back at Cardan, like she is reminding him of something only they discussed. Then, as if suddenly fearful at her words, she hops off of my lap to lean out the open window. I vaguely wish the faeries would stop coming through that way. I also rise from the bed to grab her arm. “You will keep in contact this time, won’t you?” I hate how desperate my plea sounds. She covers my hand with her own for a moment and flashes me a small smile before disappearing into the darkness and the halogen lights.

I turn around to face Cardan and make a dramatic gesture with my arms towards the window. I want nothing more than to come to grips with the fact that I have to drag this mercurial king across the country with me. The idea exhausts me already. “You too. Out.”

He smirks at me, crossing his arms again. “Oh no, dearest Jude. Our little misfortune begins tonight. I will be with you — ” he crosses the space separating us until he can look down into my face and I can feel his warm breath — “every step of the way.”

*****

I force him to sleep on the living room couch. I offer him neither pillows nor blankets and shut my door as forcefully as I can without slamming it. Glancing at my alarm clock, I see that dawn threatens to rise in only a couple hours. I flop down onto my bed and will myself into a deep and colorless sleep.

In the morning, Vivi doesn’t knock before bursting into my room. “What the hell is Cardan doing in our front room?” She demands.

The events of last night wash through me as I blearily blink to my senses. Vivi is standing right over my head, staring down at me with bewilderment. Out of the corner of my eye, I also see Oak peek around the doorway, already dressed in his school uniform.

I sigh. “We will have to buy another set of tickets,” I tell her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me this song isn't completely Cardan and Jude:
> 
> Greek God- Conan Grey


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Busy weeks lead to me being lazy about writing. But not to worry! We are still going strong.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left such amazing, wonderful, encouraging, and fabulous comments! I really enjoy hearing your feedback and enthusiasm for my writing and for this journey! <3 <3 <3
> 
> Enjoy!

Vivi and I sit at the dining table next to the kitchen, my tickets and itinerary printed from the library spread out before us. We had to be at the Greyhound station at 8:30 the next morning to take the first of many buses across the country. Cardan and Oak are on the living room floor, playing or talking or scheming, I can’t exactly tell. The evening news plays dimly on the TV.

I had successfully avoided Cardan for the first 24 hours of his stay in the mortal world. Luckily, he still slept on the couch during the day and there was only a brief moment when I returned home from work that he could try to accost me. I managed to flee to my room quickly enough to deny him that chance. Even now, in the brief time I had before leaving for work he was up early, and I could feel him staring intently at my back which was turned to the living room.

I write “gloves,” “coat,” and “deoderant” on my supply list. These are more like reminders for me so I don’t forget them. I hope to travel light, fitting everything I need to take into just one bag. Having managed the High Court with only three doublets to wear for five months, I’m fairly certain that I can survive three days in one outfit. I figured my light blue long-sleeve shirt and blue jeans were inconspicuous enough.

Cardan took some negotiating in packing light, most of which I left to Vivi. I would carry his stuff in my pack as well. She bought him a set of human clothes from a thrift store, since any glamour they both tried to hide his obvious faerie features would sputter and fade without warning. Magic truly was becoming unreliable. A black cable-knit sweater and black jeans, a pair of boots that she insisted would be warm enough for our travels, and a grey and red knit beanie were all met with his curious appraisal.

I had watched her demonstrate the beanie on him. “To hide his ears,” was her justification. She had helped him tuck the points of his ears underneath the material and arrange his hair around his face. They laughed together and joked, and once again I felt a stab of something like jealousy. I always seemed to forget their past friendliness. I hated that she felt comfortable enough with him to touch his hair and skin. I resented him for letting her. It shouldn’t be this hard to tell myself that I don’t want to love, that I can’t let myself. Look what it cost me, that one brief moment when I had.

Cardan caught my expression in the mirror as he adjusted the hat, and I had turned away before he could make a comment.

Oak’s giggling from behind me pulls me from my beanie-musing only to see that I had twenty minutes before my last shift at the cafe. I told Sam that a relative had died and I would need time for the funeral. As understanding as he was, he insisted that I work until the night before I leave, a fact that would certainly have me frustrated at a lack of sleep if not for the chance to avoid Cardan’s presence.

“Hell,” I say to Vivi. “I have to go. Is there any chance that you could get these last items for me?” I gestured to the list, mostly intending the toiletries and snacks. Vivi also mentioned that shampoo and toothpaste could come in tiny “travel-size” bottles, which I sorely wanted.

“Relax, sis. A quick trip to CVS and it’s done.” Vivi glanced at the two faeries currently sprawled in front of the TV. “Does Cardan need anything?” At the mention of his name, Cardan looks at us over Oak’s head.

“No,” I mutter before throwing on my boots and coat and whisking out the door into the frigid and much-needed air. I don’t look at Cardan, though I know all his attention is on me.

Hours later I say goodbye to Sam, who is practically falling all over himself giving condolences and well-wishes and saying “I’m here if you need me.” I am covered in whipped cream that had gushed incorrectly out of the can, my face feels indescribably moist from steam, and I am despairingly aware that I have to be awake in only six hours. Not to mention that the person I hate most in this world must come with me. So I don’t think about how impatient I must seem to Sam when I throw him a prompt “goodnight” and practically jog home.

I slog my way through grey slush back to the apartment, mentally checking my supplies list and hoping Vivi managed to collect the rest of what I needed. My backpack is mostly packed with everything and sits by my bedroom door, waiting for its call of duty. Cardan’s extra outfit and mine, and all our toiletries and maps and even a few Poptarts are wrapped inside its pockets. The only things I won’t pack in it are my knives: those I’ll hide under my clothes.

I want nothing more than to indulge in one more hot shower and snuggle into warm pajamas and blankets to sleep before Vivi drives us to the station at 7:45 in the morning. I step inside and lock the door behind me, pulling the chain on as quickly as possible so that I can dash back into my room. In the darkness of the apartment, I don’t notice Cardan standing behind me until I nearly crash into him.

My shoulder bumps into him first and my hands fly up to land on his bare chest. When my eyes finally adjust, I notice that he wears only a pair of sleeper pants that Vivi must have found for him. Given that I know he prefers to sleep naked, I am glad for it. I seriously underestimate his slyfooting if he can creep up on me like that. I back away from him until I’m pressed against the door. The heat of his skin burns through my palms.

He’s staring at me and stands as still as a statue. It’s eerily quiet in the room until he utters a single word: “Jude.”

My name sounds like a command in his lowered voice and my stomach flutters. I hate him. I hate him and my traitorous body. He has no power over me. I won’t allow it.

When I make no answer, because my voice and breath disobey me, he says, “Are you avoiding me, Jude?”

I want him to stop saying my name as if we aren’t enemies, as if I wasn’t spurned and humiliated and rejected so horribly by him.

“How could I possibly avoid you? You’ve barged into my home and attached yourself to me for the foreseeable week. I couldn’t possibly escape you,” I say with grit and bitterness grinding between my teeth. I feel like I am chewing glass and ignoring the taste of blood.

His black eyes never leave mine as he shakes his head softly, tousling his raven-feather locks. Idly, I think about twirling my finger around one of the strands against his cheek. About kissing the lock of hair, and smelling the moss and leather scent of him. Then I imagine chopping the hair off with a knife.

“Oh, how I’ve missed your lies. You were never as good at telling them as you thought.” He lifts his hand as if to rest against my cheek, which is burning, but he lets it hover before my shoulder instead.

I don’t know what to say to that, so I try to hide how much the remark stings. If he wants to hurt me, I can be cruel as well.

“I have nothing to say to you. I want my crown and nothing else.” I step away from the door towards him, but he doesn’t move or make a sound. Just that fierce, piercing glare.

And then I can’t contain the pain I’ve bottled for five months anymore. I want to unleash it all on him. I want him to hurt as much as I did. As I do. And if I still want to throw my arms around him and crush his mouth to me, well then, I hope my kiss would poison him slowly.

“When I have it,” I continue over my shoulder, “I am going to use every force imaginable to destroy you. You can defend your throne, Cardan”— my voice is sword blades and dripping thorns—“or you can burn with it.”

With that, I brush past him and stalk back to my room. My hands and legs are shaking, but I’m not sure if it’s with rage or fear or something else I don’t want to admit to myself. My eyes burn with threatening tears. Once my door is closed, I slap myself across my cheekbone to settle myself. I will not let weakness overcome me. If I can’t at least avoid or even ignore Cardan for our ungodly amount of time together, at least I can make it hell for him.

I can already tell that my nerves are not going to make sleep easy tonight. My shower is quick, but my skin is raw from my scrubbing and the hot water. I throw on a long shirt and repack my backpack for what seems like the hundredth time.

After an hour or two of packing and repacking and feeling the bloodshot creep into my eyes, a tiny knock comes from my door. I know that Oak should be asleep, but sometimes his faerie nature gets the best of his sleep schedule. I crack open the door to let him in and he immediately embraces me around my legs.

“Oh dear,” I say soothingly. “What’s wrong?” I gather him into my arms so we can sit on my blankets together. His little face is drawn into a frown and he holds something in his hands. He stares down at his hooves and doesn’t speak.

I try to spark some sort of speech from him, tired as I am. “What’s that you got?” His hands clutch on what I now see is pink construction paper, like what he uses for his school projects.

Without speaking, he unfurls the thing and at last I can see it clearly. “It’s a crown,” he says meekly.

Maybe it’s my tiredness or my emotional rawness, but my eyes begin to burn again. I swipe at my eyes. “Did you make that for me?” I ask.

He nods. “I heard you say to Vivi that you had to go get one. That’s why you’re leaving.” He looks up at me finally and I see his lip trembling. I pull my little brother into an embrace. I hope it’s more comforting than it feels.

“I’ll be back so soon, little one. You won’t even know I’m gone.” Oak tightens his embrace and mumbles something into my chest I don’t catch. Cardan’s sly voice trickles into the back of my mind, reassuring me again of my weakness at lying.

“Yes, I will,” says Oak, before opening the crown completely and putting it onto my head.

*****

When my alarm finally goes off a few hours later, I practically spring out of bed and instantly regret leaving the warm cocoon of my blankets. I don’t think I’ll be warm for a while. The places we’ll be traveling to will be far harsher in their winter weather.

I dress quickly to avoid as much exposure and grab my bag. The paper crown sits on my nightstand and after several beats, I decide to fold it gingerly and tuck it into a pocket. I can’t abandon all of Oak. He seemed too old and resigned for his age when he crowned me and left to finally sleep.

Vivi stands in the kitchen in her pajamas. She looks rumpled with bedhead and pillow marks but insists she won’t even leave the car. It’s a 10 minute drive to the station, supposedly.

Cardan looks unfazed and unforgivably immaculate in the dim morning light, as if he isn’t up far past the hours he should be asleep. His beanie is pulled low to cover his pointed ears. The black-on-black outfit makes his pale skin glow like arctic ice.

I’m suddenly struck with the odd thought that Cardan hasn’t seen much of the human world. He didn’t go with Vivi to shop, nor did he explore outside the apartment at all. Has he ever even been in a vehicle? I’ll have to be careful he doesn’t wander into traffic or fall down a sewer hole, or attract the wrong kind of attention from the wrong kind of people.

I’m feeling less like a vengeful queen and more like a royal babysitter.

Oak has already left for school but I ache for his presence here. Along with his paper crown, I’ve kept his scarf inside my coat pocket. They’ll serve as tokens, reminders of what I’m trying to do. The future king I’m still trying to protect.

The morning air is brisk and I hear Cardan inhale deeply; probably he’s thankful to be outside for the first time in a couple days. He’s being perfectly complacent even, until he sees the car.

“Are we to travel in...that?” He says. He sounds doubtful.

“Only for like the next ten minutes,” says Vivi. “You guys will be traveling in something much bigger.”

“It moves by itself?”

“Yeah! Think of it like a...carriage without horses.” Vivi has unending patience for him despite her previous encouragements for me to kick his ass. I guess their friendship takes far more priority. I’m not going to dwell on that.

“If Oak can get used to it, so can you. Get in,” I say gruffly, shoving past him. It’s only when I actually sit in the passenger seat and see Cardan peering at the door that I realize he doesn’t know how to open it. I huff when I climb back out to pull on the door handle.

Cardan flashes me a wicked smile. I’m standing here holding the door open for him like some servant. “Why, thank you, Jude,” he purrs.

I mean to say some biting remark back to him but all that comes out is a snarl. Slamming the door after he has tucked himself in the backseat, I catch Vivi’s amused gaze over the hood of the car.

“What?” I snap.

She looks like she’s suppressing a laugh. “Oh, nothing. I just have absolutely no hope that you’ll both come back alive. Or in one piece.”

I don’t either.

The drive is the longest ten minutes of my life. At first, Cardan was absolutely astounded at the speed of the car and the others that passed us. He kept moving from each window to gaze at the scenery racing by, calling out shop names or road signs. Vivi answered his questions as patiently as a saint.

“That’s a gas station. It’s where you get fuel for cars. No, they don’t run on hay or magic like the toads.”

“Having a car does not mean we are human royalty.”

“Yes, the window rolls down. Don’t stick your head out, for the love of Mab.”

When I glared at her for answering his hundredth question, she shrugged and said, “I think it’s funny.”

Now, Cardan is smitten with the radio. He’s pulled himself up between our seats so that he can reach all the buttons. At one point, he turns the volume dial up so fast that the announcers seem to burst from our speakers like the voice of God. My ears are still ringing and I hope his hand still aches from the slap I gave it trying to turn the volume down. My violence doesn’t curb his curiosity, however. He seems to enjoy flipping through the channels by pressing each numbered button.

“I won’t say that I understand human culture,” he says. “But I believe that I may come to enjoy it.”

He pauses on one station where a girl is singing “thank you, next” over and over. Listening to her sing, I find I don’t much care for the theme.

“I think this is it,” says Vivi. We’re stopped at an intersection, and when I finally bring my awareness beyond the windowpane I immediately see a brick wall painted blue and red with the logo of the silver dog in the center. The station is not like I expected. Smaller, and the slate sky doesn’t help the bleak atmosphere. I feel the ever-present coils of my nerves twist a little. When the stop-light turns green, Vivi pulls into the station and parks beside the squat building. Even though we are about 30 minutes early (per internet advice) and there are no buses here, I see other people waiting in front of the doors.

Vivi twists her mouth up a little and hums: “this is so very un-faerie.” Then she turns to me. “Tickets? You got your bag? We didn’t forget anything?”

I pull our tickets out from our bag, double checking all the boarding times and destinations. The codes and numbers blur before my eyes a bit. I blink a few times to clear my head.

“I guess we’re ready,” I say, but I make no move to exit the car. I hear a scrabbling noise behind me and realize Cardan is really trying to get out and still can’t find the door handle.

“Come on,” says Vivi encouragingly. “Think of this as like the first part of your traveling done. Woohoo! First ten minutes of like...85 hours done!” I crack a smile she doesn’t see as she opens the back door for Cardan.

“You make it sound like the time will fly by,” muses Cardan as he stands. “And I was so looking forward to catching up with Jude.”

“Eh, yeah, I’m sure that’ll still happen.” For the first time, Vivi almost looks apologetic at me. She looks around until she spots a little shop with “The Dogfish Cafe” emblazoned on the front. She lets out a little moan and says “oh yeah, I’m so gonna grab a coffee while I wait for you guys to leave.”

I sling my backpack on, grateful that we won’t be hauling too much baggage around but resentful that I’ll probably be the only one carrying it. I hug Vivi and try not to shiver too hard against her; from nerves or the cold, it doesn’t really matter.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?” She says against my ear. I tell her okay, but I hope I won’t need anything. I can’t even begin to imagine what we’ll see, or what we’ll meet.

Cardan gives her a small nod when he walks by her, hands folded into his coat pockets. He looks dark and frighteningly beautiful.

When we reach the doors of the station, Vivi calls out, “be safe!”

Since we already printed our tickets and don’t have any bags to check, as the ticket lady explains to us, we could go ahead and wait for the bus. “Boarding will begin in twenty minutes,” she drones, gesturing to the bus that has pulled up just now. People shuffle into line by its door.

Back under the grey sky, Cardan flashes me what I truly believe will be the first of many suggestive looks, and he raises an eyebrow at me. “Well, my dearest, shall we do our very best to keep our hands off of each other?”

I don’t miss the innuendo, but I’m not going to encourage him. “If I put my hands on you, Cardan, it’ll be to throw you under the bus.”

He lets out a startled chuckle as we enter the line. “Oh Jude,” he sighs, “I’d just drag you with me.”

 


End file.
